Page 71 of Worshiping Faith

Nothing is ever simple.

Not for men like us.

Chapter Sixteen

Faith

Jinx is barely keeping his feet under him. Even with Wilkes gripping one side and me bracing the other, he’s staggering like a man walking through a dream, half-there, half-gone.

His breath is wrong. Shallow, labored. It’s got my pulse jumping in a way I don’t like.

I tighten my grip on him. “Should we radio Zachs for help?”

Wilkes exhales through his nose. “He’s alone on the ship. Can’t leave.”

He’s right. We’re all running on fumes. There’s no backup. No second wind coming. Just get Jinx aboard. Get him settled. Keep moving.

But the dock steps, shit.

“Wilkes, the incline,” I start, already dreading how we’re gonna get Jinx up the steep gangway.

Wilkes closes his eyes like he’s collecting every last ounce of patience. We’re all on the edge, running on instinct now. It’s written in the tightness of his jaw, the tension in his frame.

“Jinx,” Wilkes says, firm but not unkind. “I’m carrying you. Don’t make it harder than it has to be.”

Jinx makes a weak attempt at straightening. “Yeah, man. Solid.”

I don’t miss how Wilkes adjusts his grip, careful not to jostle Jinx’s side. Beneath all that steel and control, Wilkes is careful. He’s got a soldier’s practicality, but he doesn’t move like a man who enjoys letting people break.

That makes two of us.

Wilkes shifts, hauling Jinx up like he weighs nothing, and suddenly, we’re moving faster.

We reach the dock, and Zachs is already there, watching from the ship’s deck, leaning on the railing like he’s been waiting for us.

He’s still bloody, still grinning. When he wipes his face with the back of his hand, it only smears the red more. That dimple flashes like this is just another normal day for him.

And maybe I need that.

Maybe I need his insanity, his teasing. A break from reality snapping at my heels.

“His room ready?” I shout up, trying not to sound as exhausted as I feel.

Zachs clutches his chest like I shot him. “Hello to you too,” he calls down, voice dripping with mock offense.

I roll my eyes, but there’s no real bite behind it. “Not now, Zachs,” I say, softer than I mean to.

His expression shifts. Just barely. But I see it. He hears what I’m not saying.

Then, he moves, stepping to the gangway to help.

And this part is gonna suck.

The ship isn’t some pleasure cruise. The gangway is steep, built for soldiers, not half-dead men being carried by another.

Wilkes adjusts his grip. “You go first,” he tells me. “Make sure we don’t trip on shit.”

I don’t argue. One wrong step and we’re all going into the water.

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